The 69th Hunger Games SYOT
by Greek of Greatness
Summary: Daedalus Crowley has assumed the role of Head Gamemaker for the 69th Annual Hunger Games. Eager to please President Snow and the citizens of the Capitol, he has designed a unique and complex arena for this year's crop of tributes. What happens inside the arena is left a mystery which 24 unfortunate children will have to face, while only one will survive. SYOT Open, form on profile.
1. Prologue

The room was pitch black and filled to the brim with excited chatter. Suspense grew with each passing moment as the crowd eyed the front of the room. Preparations had been completed; the show everyone was waiting to see was just about to begin. Several spotlights began to illuminate the stage and immediately so, the crowd was hushed. There were several cameras positioned at every angle of room ensuring the entirety of the event was observed. A gasp escapes the viewers as a cloud of smoke covers the stage.

The sounds of trumpets signal the start of the show! Caesar Flickerman ascended on a platform from underneath the stage. The crowd roared in appreciation as he emerged from the smoke. Caesar took hold of his microphone and flashed a pearly white smile towards the crowd. In the tradition of supporting the Hunger Games, he had dyed his hair a bright orange and wore a matching orange tuxedo this time around.

"Ladies and gentlemen! The 69th Annual Hunger Games!" His introduction was met with excited cheers from the audience – though he feigned disappointment. "Don't tell me _that_ is the best you can do!" He questioningly raised a brow. The deafening cheers caused him to chuckle heartily as the show continues. "And now put your hands together for the man who made it all happen. I give you…DAEDALUS CROWLEY!" He gestured to his right, the spotlight falls upon a slender looking man dressed in black.

The head gamemaker proudly entered the room, giving a slight wave to the audience as he sat down next to Caesar. The music died while the cheering eventually subsided. Everyone was waiting for him to give them the info on this year's game.

"It is a great honor to be here in front of such a gracious audience tonight" Daedalus understood how easy it could be to flatter them. They smiled and they clapped, it became almost second nature for many to do so.

"As we are equally honored to be with you, Mr. Crowley" Caesar respectfully nodded his head, the audience gave their applause once again. "This marks your first year as head gamemaker, isn't that right?"

"Yes. And I have _big_ plans for the 69th year of the Hunger Games"

There are some eager murmurs heard from the crowd.

"I'm sure the audience is just dyingfor you to share your secrets"

"Well…" The new head gamemaker paused for a moment, allowing the excitement to build in the room. "I won't go into details, but this year will display some of most unique obstacles to ever be implemented into the Hunger Games"

**And so it would be, the 69th Hunger Games was soon to begin. Now it is your turn to submit your very own tribute. There is a form to copy and paste on my profile. PM me with your tributes and I will update the list ASAP. That is all for now. **


	2. District One: Sorcha Lockrose

The sound of clicking heels echoed down the barren hallway of the Career Academy as Sorcha Lockrose moved with a sense of determination. Undeniably, the talk of the entire district would focus today on the reaping that would take place in an hour. Her peers were probably attending the pre-reaping ceremony by this time. Over a large celebratory feast, the trainers, the students, and their parents would gather to honor those whose skills were exemplary and would be chosen to volunteer as tribute.

Idiots, she thought, they're so blinded by the luxury of their gems that they underestimate the magnitude of representing the district in the Hunger Games. She would be different though, she would be prepared. She approached a weapons rack sitting idly against the wall. Her pale white hands grazed over the diverse assortment of weapons available for her use, stopping as her hand gently caressed the blade of a dagger before picking it up.

She glanced briefly at her reflection in the blade as it glistened in the light. Her blue eyes appeared to stare back at her as an internal reminder of what she must do. _Victory belongs to the strong!_ Her mind began to speak freely as she drove the piercing tip of her blade between the eyes of a training dummy standing to her left. _Victory belongs to the intelligent!_ She followed up her attack with a lethal gash across the abdomen of another dummy standing to her right.

Her final target stood less than five feet from her; it was armed with a makeshift shield, a steel helmet, and a sword. She lunged forward with the strength of a warrior and the grace of an acrobat, easily rolling past her enemy. Now standing directly behind the helpless dummy, she dug her blade into the fabric and completely severed the head from the body.

_Victory belongs to those who are determined!_

She is removed from her train of thought by the sound of slow clapping. Sorcha's eyes glance towards the door of the training room where her friend Aoife is smirking proudly.

"Bravo! Bravo! That was quite impressive"

"Shouldn't you be at the district pre-reaping?" She stood and greeted her friend at the doorway.

"Why bother? Everyone knows the oldest are chosen to volunteer" Though unfortunate, Sorcha knew this to be true. The pre-reapings were more of a formality in the district, for many it became an excuse to get drunk. "And what about you? Surely you are more capable than the other girls the district has to offer"

"I have no concern for what they choose to do with their lives, if they wish to offer themselves to the Capitol then so be it" Sorcha proceeded to grab an additional dagger from the weapons rack and strutted calmly towards the sparring ring. Heeding the not-so-subtle remark, Aoife soon followed with her own set of daggers and entered the ring.

For a brief moment, the two had stood in their place on opposite sides as they stared back at each other. Their daggers rested calmly to their sides, ready to be deployed at the first sight of action. "And then we were here…" Aoife remarked. The two girls rushed madly towards each other. Their attacks were swift and deadly enough to cut the air into two. Strike after strike, they took their spar seriously; their bond with the blades became one entity. When it was all said and done, the two girls had left and parted ways. Sorcha then returned to her home.

Her brother Kyle was seated on a chair in the dining room as he watched her enter. His baby blue tuxedo was ironed and washed and he wore it with pride. He had even taken the time to comb his hair, something Sorcha wished he had done more often. "Where were you this morning? I didn't see you at the pre-reaping" He said to her.

"I was training at the academy, something the others should have been doing instead" She flipped her ashy blonde hair behind her shoulders in defiance as she came out with that retort. Heading upstairs and into her room, she delved into her closet in search for something nice to wear for the reaping. After some internal deliberation, she had settled on wearing a silky black dress that stopped just short of her ankles with a pair of golden heels. She then applied some finishing touches of makeup before meeting her brother downstairs to head out to the district reaping.

Kyle and Sorcha Lockrose walked down the streets of District One together, exchanging generic brother - sister small talk on the way there. In the back of her mind however, she began to wonder who had been selected at the pre-reaping to volunteer for this year's games. There were many who met the standards of the career academy that were on their last year of eligibility for volunteering.

She was happy though that Kyle would not be the boy standing on that stage during the reaping. Not only was he not a career, this year was also his last year of eligibility. He would be free to live a life of working in the family bracelet business for the rest of his the age of seventeen, Sorcha was also nearly done with her days at the reaping. Though the idea of being reaped was never something which concerned her, she also didn't mind living the easy life like her brother and parents would inevitably live.

The district escort appeared on the stage, Justice was his name. He was a man of unique tastes, much alike to those who typically live in the Capitol. Some years ago, he had decided to alter his skin to a green, scaly texture to closely resemble a reptile. It was ridiculous, she thought of it.

"Good morning everyone! Today is such a special day and I'm sure you all enjoy just as much as I do!" His ecstatic voice echoed loudly over the microphone for everyone in the district to hear. "But before we begin, I have a little video for you all to watch" They played the same propaganda film over the holographic projectors as they had on this same day, every single year. Sorcha had quickly grown annoyed by the repetitiveness of this gesture. By now most of the district, if not all of Panem, could recite the entire thing off by breathed a sigh of relief when it had finally ended.

"Now for the moment you have all been waiting for, first we shall begin with the girls..." He reached his reptilian hand into the girls reaping bowl and swiftly drew a slip of paper. It didn't really matter what name he had drawn, a career was bound to volunteer for them anyway… "Sorcha Lockrose" Justice had called out.

There was an awkward moment of silence, one that was usually filled with a career mindlessly offering to participate instead, but it never happened. Heads had turned in her direction, she concluded that nobody was going to do that this time and approached the front where he was beckoning her upon the stage. Whether this was meant to be, or someone had failed to step in and volunteer, Sorcha Lockrose had already began her preparations to win the 69th Hunger Games – nobody was going to get in her way.

**Here is an updated list of tribute submissions. As you can see there, are still many spots left to fill so if you haven't already submitted a tribute, do so now while you can! **

**District One**

Female: DecidedlyDestiel

Male: DalekOswin

**District Two**

Female: spacechupi

Male:

**District Three**

Female:

Male:

**District Four**

Female: TheGreenMockingjay

Male:

**District Five**

Female:

Male:

**District Six**

Female:

Male:

**District Seven**

Female:

Male:

**District Eight**

Female: HarryPotter-Divergent

Male:

**District Nine**

Female:

Male:

**District Ten**

Female:

Male:

**District Eleven**

Female: ButterLover2345

Male:

**District Twelve**

Female:

Male:


	3. District One: Quartz Markov

"…So then I asked the man, what would your wife have to say about that?" Quartz Markov snapped his fingers with an emphasis "And just like that, he proceeded to buy our most expensive bouquet of flowers in the store!" The entire table had burst into a fit of laughter.

Today was a very special day, marking the 69th annual reaping for the Hunger Games. More importantly however, today was also the district's pre-reaping celebration. Anyone with a name that mattered attended the event. The district's mayor himself would name the female and male participants to volunteer for this year's games.

"Oh Quartz!" His mother, Satin Markov, warmly rested a hand on his broad shoulders while holding a glass of champagne in another. He could tell she already had a few drinks before he joined his family at the table. "The front counter will be so quiet without you behind it every day, I'm going to miss that" She jokingly pouted.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about mother" The boy smirked pretentiously back at her.

"You know son, the Capitol doesn't really adore pacifists" His father, Clint Markov laughed at his expense. With age it appears the man has grown even more narrow minded. He had been training Quartz since the young age of 12, but his opinion was an archaic one of brute force that would never suffice in the games. Quartz had learned a very valuable lesson watching his peers venture off to compete. Those who returned to the district after the games were over had possessed a talent that extended far beyond the tip of a sharp blade.

In his mind, the key to winning has become one of mentality. It lies within the distinctive gleam of a true victor's eye. It is the driving force behind a tribute's will to survive. Crush their will to live and inevitably they will wither away and die. It is said that if you know your enemies and know yourself, you will not be imperiled in a hundred battles. Though Quartz recognized this, too many were ignorant to this very fact; it became something of a competitive edge for him as the district selected potential tributes.

"How could I ever surpass a man with so many accolades in the games?" He grinned suggestively at his father, carefully observing as his smug grin is almost instantly wiped from his face. Actually, Clint had never been voted to volunteer for the Hunger Games. According to the stories from his mother, they said he was too short to be a career. He was just glad he inherited her height and athleticism and not from his father.

"So brother" His sister Gemma could hardly contain her devious smile hidden conspicuously beneath a covering hand as she spoke from the other end of the table. "When are you going to propose to that Ruby girl?"

"Well isn't that a good question…" Quartz playfully stroked his chin as he pretended to contemplate the situation. "Maybe I'll propose to her at the arena"

"How sweet" She spoke in an equally sarcastic tone. "Everyone in Panem can attend your wedding…"

"Instead of bells, we'll have cannons…"

"If you two would shut up for a second, the mayor is about to make an announcement!" Clint had taken it upon himself to silence the snarky banter between Quartz and his sister. They soon directed their attention to the suited man standing at the front. He waited patiently until the chatter from other tables had ended before speaking.

"It is of my utmost appreciation to be standing here today to commend our fellow academy students for all their hard work…"

What a load of crap, Quartz smiled in contempt, the man didn't care if you trained hard at the academy. What he did care about however, were the victors, the careers that actually win. It's all a clever ruse to boost his popularity disguised under an admiration for the students who are willing to give their lives for him, for the district which they were born and raised.

"…and now to announce the tributes that will represent District One in the 69th Hunger Games. Ladies first…" Quartz could see all of the desperate career girls started to gather at the front of the stage as if they expected their name to be called. They've dolled themselves up with layers of makeup and wore the most expensive of attire. He is humoured by the idea of watching them return to their seats with an array of defeated expressions as they watch their dreams be crushed before their eyes. "The female tribute to represent District One will be, Ruby Cassidy!"

The announcement came as a sudden shock to Quartz and his family. He watched in horror as his friend solemnly trudged her way towards the mayor who welcomed her with a phoney smile and open arms. She wasn't even a career. She just spent her days training with Quartz as a means of avoiding those overbearing parents of hers. Where his heart once beat with fervent excitement now ached in a dire pain. He both feared the prospect of her volunteering to enter the games and the shame which she would surely incur if she doesn't. How could they not have noticed…that she was half-blind?

"Now for the males…" And yet the show continued. Nobody else seemed to notice this blatant mistake. Of all people, why her? "Representing the males of District One, Quartz Markov!" The boy slowly rose from his seat and approached the mayor amidst a joyous applause from the crowd. Ruby stared outward in disbelief; he could tell she was shaking ever so slightly. When he reached the stage, he rushed to her side – paying no heed to anything the mayor had to say. He squeezed her hand softly and gave her a reassuring smile.

"Whatever happens today, you are not going to volunteer at the reaping" He leaned over slightly and whispered into her ear. She nodded, returning to acknowledge the crowd who gave the two a standing ovation. Wasn't anyone going to put a stop to this? He wondered. Even Ruby's parents were unusually quiet about this. He half-expected them to tear apart the entire district before letting their daughter be sent to her own deathbed.

The mayor gave his closing speech, one Quartz did not care to listen to at this point. People then rose from their seats and proceeded to leave for the actual reaping. Ruby was quickly ushered to her parents; they wrapped their arms around her like shackles of a prisoner. Quartz intended to see his family one last time before he would volunteer for the Hunger Games, although the issue at hand became one of extreme importance. He had no doubt in his mind that something or someone has disturbed the order of things. The selections of the pre-reaping are taken to heart by many of the district; they will definitely hate her for not volunteering.

The mayor seemed to have disappeared by this time, though surely hurrying to the Justice Building in order to suck up to the Capitol.

"How cheeky of him" He muttered to himself. To flee so soon after the fact...

Nearby, Quartz noticed a group of male careers standing idly on the side of the road. He met eyes with one of the members who in turn alerted the group of his presence. There were about five or six of them, all now approaching him. Their treacherous smiles revealed their evil intentions. The leader of the pack was a boy named Gold, his arch-rival as some would say. Quartz had no other option but to confront them and see what they wanted this time.

"Gold Narcissus…" The name was one he had grown to dislike over the years. "I take it you had something to do with this haven't you?"

"Money is the true mover of movers, and the freer of people…" The boy spoke eloquently with a tone that belied the satisfaction of witnessing such a dramatic series of events.

"So you put Ruby up to this and demand payment, though you are among the elite in the district, how much could you possibly want from me?"

"Come now!" The boy seemed offended that Quartz would even ask such a question. "Don't be so obtuse… I don't want your money; I want the Capitol's money"

That could only mean...

"You want to volunteer for the Hunger Games?"

"And we have a winner!" Gold shouted at the top of his lungs, drawing the attention of passerby's. Such a malicious plan he has set into motion, all in the name of fame and glory. If he wanted to play mind games, then he had just met his match.

"Fine, have it your way. But Ruby is not to be harmed…" He was an imbecile as to believe Quartz would simply allow him the right to tread on his own glory.

The hour of the reaping was soon upon the people of District One. Quartz rushed over to the registration desk just outside of the Justice building before being escorted to a designated area to stand and wait. He stood along with the other men of his age as the reaping ceremonies began. Soon it came time for the district escort to call out the names for the male and female tributes. First for the ladies…

"Sorcha Lockrose" There was a moment of silence. Quartz was confident that Ruby would not volunteer. A few seconds had gone by, the girl made her way onto the stage, he recognized her as a career academy student but didn't remember much else about her. Quartz breathed a sigh of relief; he could now volunteer freely without worry of causing Ruby any harm. "Now for the males…"

The escort plunged his hand into the reaping bowl, drawing out the last slip of paper. Quartz could hear his conversation with Gold repeat itself in his mind. When this was all said and done, it would be he who has the last laugh. "...Kyle Lockrose"

"I volunteer!" Quartz quickly seized the opportunity to snatch the moment away. He trotted proudly upon the stage. Giving just a brief and satisfying moment of eye contact with Gold as he stood angrily in the audience.

"And what might your name be sir?"

"Quartz Markov"


	4. District Two: Niobe Chatelaine

The lifeless body of a twelve year old little girl laid silently in a meadow. A pool of blood formed around her scrawny figure. Somewhere amidst a commotion, her family sobs uncontrollably for their loss. The tribute responsible for this has long fled the scene, leaving behind only the instrument which had sealed her fate. There laid the very sword that impaled into her stomach and tragically brought about her end, but in turn forged a new beginning.

Niobe Chatelaine forcefully removed the sword from the training dummy's midsection. An image of the little girl from eight that died long ago formed on the ground next to her feet. She could sense the feelings of grief she once harboured over her death return once again. A child so gentle and innocent in her demeanor was doomed to such a cruel and twisted torture; it taught her a very valuable lesson.

To the dead, life was like a treasure…a profound rarity. We must cherish it with all of the love we can give and protect it with all the suffering we can take. Many have taken it for granted, not worrying about waking up the next morning. Only when death lingers on the horizon do people truly begin to appreciate life, by then it is already too late.

"Umm, Niobe…" A soft and timid voice called from behind. Quickly regaining her composure, she turned to see young Castor fidgeting nervously with his hands. He was only thirteen and in his second year of training at the program. "I was wondering if you would maybe… want to spar with me?"

"You know I would love to Castor…" She knelt down on one knee to face him eye to eye, holding his shoulders like a loving parent would. "But I have a final exam to go to soon. I'll probably have to fight some very strong people today, so I need to save my energy until then"

"Oh, I understand" He said with a hint of disappointment. She felt bad for turning him down, noting the excitement drain from his eyes. "Well then… good luck!" He gave her a characteristically cheerful smile and ran off to challenge his friend Cato.

"All senior program members report to facility one for your final exam" A female voice then announced over the PA system.

It was time, she concluded. The single biggest moment of a career's training life begins now. This would serve as an accumulation of all the skills she had acquired during her time spent learning under the tutelage of the district's finest victors. She opened the door to facility one. The district's mentors, Brutus and Enobaria, were present and standing alongside the headmaster of the career program. The senior students stood in a line against the wall. She spotted Silvanus standing at the very end and quietly tip-toed beside him so as to not disturb the procedure.

"Are you ready to wow the mentors today?" He whispered to her. She could feel her heart stopping as his olive skin ever so faintly grazed her body. A surge of warmth ran through her entire being. "…Niobe?"

"Wha…? Oh! Uh…" She couldn't believe she had been caught zoning out like that with him standing right beside her. Her mind scrambled for something to say, anything would have sufficed at that moment.

"Now that you're all here!" The headmaster suddenly interrupted. Perhaps it was not meant to be, she thought to herself. "It is time to begin the final exam; I hope you're all ready for this." The man's hawk-like eyes scanned the room intently as he closely watched the reactions of his students.

"Most of you have been training for five years, some of you six." Enobaria now spoke. She had that murderous look in her eyes, ones that had seen her through the games by way of brutality. She is a fiend with a black heart and bloodthirsty fangs. Niobe knew all too well of her kind.

"All of it will be put to the test today as we pit you against one another in a spar" Brutus unveiled the largest assortment of weapons Niobe had ever seen to this day. Everything from swords to daggers to sickles to, of course, the bow. So clean and polished one would believe they had never been used.

"We're going to fight each other using those?!" A concerned student spoke.

"These weapons are specially designed for training purposes; your strikes will do no more than minor injury to your opponent" Niobe and a few of the students sighed in relief, while others appeared to be oddly disappointed about this.

"For the purpose of selecting a male and female tribute to represent the district, we will divide the groups into males and females. Brutus will be in charge of the males, Enobaria will handle the females…" The headmaster turns his gaze to the former victors. "Understood?"

"Yes sir!" Brutus and Enobaria spoke in unison. Brutus motioned the boys to follow him into another room to begin their sparring; Niobe waved Silvanus a friendly goodbye before he disappeared from her sight.

By order of Enobaria, the girls formed a circle representing the boundaries of a ring. There were only eleven besides Niobe present at the exam, slightly higher in the boys' section of the program she noted. From her experiences, she knew many of these girls were capable fighters and would put up a tough fight.

"Lois Manning…Artemis Westgate" Enobaria called the starting matchups. The girls were both instructed to grab a weapon of their choice from the weapon rack. Lois returned to the ring wielding a sturdy sword which she made a show of using for intimidation, Artemis meanwhile did not grab anything at all. "I said grab a weapon" She commanded her in a more sternly tone.

"My fists shall be my weapon" Her unwavering confidence shocked her opponent and brought a fanged smile to the female mentor's face.

"In that case, you may begin." It appeared from the outset that Artemis was much more skilled than her opponent ever would be. Effortlessly ducking each swing to her head and gracefully leaning her body out of harm's way when the strike was aimed at her midsection. Her energy fed off the opponent's suffering, gaining momentum with every missed connection. Niobe knew it would only be a matter of time before Artemis would win. Ending the match at the drop of an exhausted Lois Manning, Artemis skillfully won her match.

"Niobe Chatelaine and Artemis Westgate" Her formidable foe stood proudly on the stage of battle with the district mentor already interested in the skills which she just showcased.

Niobe knew in order to impress Enobaria now; she had to secure a decisive win over her friend and career partner. Niobe approached the weapons rack, eying the best possible weapon to use for the fight. Her hand hovered above the sword for several moments, yet her heart would not allow her to reach out and grab it. Like an invisible force was pushing against her, she withdrew her hand and opted for the bow and a single arrow.

"You don't expect to defeat me with just a single arrow do you?"

Niobe said nothing in response, nocking the arrow to the bowstring before pulling it back towards her right eye. The end of the blunted arrow rested softly against her fair skin. With one eye, she stared down her unfazed target as it poised for its attack despite lacking a weapon of her own. The future would be decided on just a single shot…

"Begin!"

Her opponent was content with waiting, she would win the moment she missed her mark. It all happened so fast. She shot the arrow; there was a gasp from the other careers and a period of silence. Artemis pulled the blunted arrow away from the torn fabric of her clothing. The arrow hit straight above the heart, a death dealing blow if these weapons had been sharper.

Niobe had been shocked she hit it so perfectly herself. There was an awkward silence as people stared at her in surprise, she didn't know what to do – so she did the only thing she knew to do when giving a performance.

"Thank you, for your consideration" She gave a theatrical bow and returned the bow to its rightful place on the rack. No performance had topped such a feat; Enobaria knew for sure who she wanted to represent the females of District Two. Everyone in the academy seemed so gracious about hearing of her achievement in the final exam and simply had to repay their kindness by fighting hard in the games.

She returned home some moments later, heading upstairs to change into her reaping outfit she had decided upon the other day. Niobe briefly enjoyed the peace and quiet of sitting on the foot of her bed. There was a knock on the door, her younger sister Ruth stood there. She was crying tears of joy, or at least that's what Niobe wanted to believe of it. The two embraced in a sisterly hug, savouring the moment as it appeared and resenting that it had to end.

"You look…so pretty Niobe!" She complimented her older sister. Niobe took the time to admire herself in the mirror hanging on the wall. In the way her taller stature was perfectly complimented by her slate grey dress and knee high boots. From the way her hair was pulled back like that of a huntress, indeed that was what she had been destined to become it seemed.

"We should probably go now though" Niobe suggested.

"Yeah…"

They arrived at the reaping by themselves, figuring mother and father were going to meet them there. The two were registered as a familiar looking peacekeeper came to escort them.

"Flint!" Niobe shouted with a smile as she wrapped her arms around her older brother.

"Niobe! Ruth! I'm glad to see you…both of you. And I heard you were chosen to volunteer!"

"If only you could have seen it for yourself…" She smiled and nodded happily.

He embraced his sisters one last time before escorting them to their designated areas on the reaping ground. The District Two escort, Maximus, appeared on the stage alongside the mayor standing with Brutus and Enobaria. They went through the usual Capitol propaganda show and spiel. Finally it was time. Maximus pulled a name out of the girl's tribute bowl. Niobe steeled herself for what she was about to do next. There was no escaping the moment now. The time came in which the glory had to be seized, for those of her district who had tried and failed…and for that little girl who inspired her to not share the same destiny.

"Alexis…"

"I volunteer!" Niobe shouted at the top of her lungs as her strode with conviction towards the stage. Word of her success at the program has spread rapidly through the entire district. People were chanting her name.

"Niobe!"

"Niobe!"

"Niobe!"

The eyes of the entire district were now watching her closely, the expectations as the chosen ones run high. Their admiration of her would not be in vain for she was determined to win.


	5. District Two: Owen Bishop

**You may have thought I was gone, but then you would be wrong! I've been lingering on here for a while and trying to get myself motivated enough to write another chapter knowing there will be more to come. I credit this chapter to the inspiration brought on by one of the most fantastic events to ever be held a.k.a MARCH MADNESS! **

**Though enough about me, meet our newest tribute from District Two.**

Owen Bishop watched closely on the sidelines as Ares scored yet another commanding victory over a fellow career in the sparring ring. The pained expression was written clear over the defeated boy's face knowing his dreams of volunteering for the games had come to a crashing halt. On a balcony above, Brutus and several trainers were conversing secretively amongst themselves as they took notice to the presentations happening before them. Of those men standing there, his eyes suddenly met with his father who responded with a knowing nod.

"Owen Bishop and Silvanus Bentley please enter the sparring ring" Brutus remained stoic as he spoke into the microphone. Only three boys remained in the running for the final spot, Ares had already secured a position in the final round and would be a serious consideration to become a volunteer. Owen looked over at his new opponent who arrogantly trotted towards the sparring ring brandishing his chain and sickle.

"I never thought you would make it this far, Bishop" The cocky boy grinned from ear to ear as he stared his opponent down, only stopping briefly to send a playful wink over at Ares who was clearly unimpressed much to his unusual pleasure. "I would say I'll take it easy on you…but that would be a lie – I'm going to wipe the floor with you in front of everyone here"

Refusing to play into his perverse mind-games, Owen grabbed hold of his sword lying peacefully beside him and slowly entered the ring. The sound of rattling chains echoed through the room as the momentum of Silvanus' sickle carried itself along a lethal rotation. He too poised to attack and patiently awaited the countdown.

3…

The plan was being carried out to perfection.

2…

The preparation, hard work, getting on the good graces of the mentors as well as the other trainers has finally paid off.

1…

All that must be done is to put on the show of a lifetime…and bow out graciously so Ares may star in the second act. Brutus and the other trainers would be none the wiser to the desires of his heart. It was a precise and methodical plan carried out over the course of several years, though in truth it had to be – lest their suspicion turned into ire.

The curved blade of the sickle came hurdling toward him at top speed with the fine tip just grazing past his ears. A length of rattling chain follows his attack as Owen Bishop began to feel a cool and constricting sensation on the back of his neck. The sickle continued its rotation, guided by the chain as it wrapped around Owen's neck like the body of a snake. It took a full two rotations for him to realize Silvanus' true intentions. By then, the blade had already dug itself into the floor. The airways of his throat were tightly confined by the coiling of the chains that tugged roughly at his skin.

He fell to his knees, pathetically gasping for air as everyone else simply watched. With an evil smirk, Silvanus slowly pulled the chain back towards him in a wrapping motion – he was certain the boy was out to kill him.

Having dropped his weapon long ago out of panic, he fumbled desperately to loosen his chains. Slowly but surely, he could feel his vision begin to blur resulting from the lack of oxygen. The strength and vitality that once ran through his body was also draining away at an alarming rate.

"After I choke you out, I'm going to drag your body all over town so everyone can get a nice glimpse" He tightened his stranglehold further in emphasis "They will chant my name, Silvanus Bentley…soon to be victor of the 69th Hunger Games"

Owen could feel the warm breath of his laughter as the onslaught resumed. He stood just inches away from him, practically standing right over his newfound prey. It suddenly became more than a possibility of death; it was to be a certainty. He was on the verge of unconsciousness but had no intentions of waiting for Silvanus relieve him of his worries.

He lashed out with all of his might on one last save, a balled fist clipping the side of the boy's head violently. The force of his punch made a resounding crack. His opponent immediately fell to the ground where he laid completely still. He removed the chains from around his neck and rolled along, wheezing on the ground beside his enemy.

The blurriness in his vision soon dissipated, his strength returned to him naturally. Owen rolled over on his side and stared into the eyes of his nemesis, the life within him had completely disappeared. He saw a dispatched med team speeding down the hallways, though strangely running right past the training room.

Owen glanced toward Ares to find that he was no longer there. He figured he must have been bored with their antics and the fight between them in general. Continuing to peer around the room, he noticed that nobody was around other than himself…and the fresh corpse of Silvanus Bentley.

"What is the meaning of this?" He pondered to himself. Brutus and the trainers had also disappeared some time ago.

The sound of agonizing screams made its way through the entire building. Concerned at the sudden turn of events, Owen Smith rushed out into the hallway. He was nearly trampled by a team of med workers rushing a boy of Ares' stature and appearance along a stretcher with what looked to be an arrow lodged deep inside the knee.

"There's no chance of avoiding it now…"

He turned around to see his mother sobbing profusely on his father's broad shoulders. He too was sorely disappointed for reasons Owen had wished to ignore.

"You mean….?"

"Based on an unexpected turn of events, you have been chosen to represent District Two in the 69th Hunger Games" His father brought the gabble down hard in marking what would truly be the end of Owen Bishop.

Being in the Hunger Games was something to be proud of in this district, it was the teenage dream. None of them have the slightest clue what they were in for though, Owen was graced to be in the presence of his father being a former victor, and his mother, the daughter of a victor. An image of his cousin bleeding to death from the penetration of multiple stab wounds returned to plague his mind once again. One of the many things he wanted to forget but never had the option of doing so.

"What about Ares?" Owen Bishop had to hold back tears of his own. Training for the games was one thing, but the prospect of actually being IN the games was something he had never dreamed of. Not after the years and years of planning for a way to expertly snake his way out of said responsibility.

"They'll never pick him now, not with this incident…" He held his head down, his chocolate brown eyes staring into his reflection emitting from the chrome-layered flooring. Forever will he regret the day he agreed to put on the slate grey uniform and take up fighting, there would have been any number of psychopaths who would have happily taken his place. "…Not to mention, you killed your only other competition in the ring"

"What was I supposed to do?" He spoke loudly, suppressing the volatile anger brewing from inside his heart. Like that of an active volcano, his emotions threatened to explode. "I was being strangled to death. You did nothing to help me…Absolutely nothing." Tensions were running thick, neither party appeared emotionally eager enough to participate in an argument. They left without another word.

It was a long walk home after the news was broken. His mother was inconsolable, all in good reason. His father was currently expressionless though Owen guessed it was an act to comfort his mother at such a perilous time.

He returned to his home in the village where a life of luxury had once awaited him at the end of every day. His mind had forgotten how it all came to be, then perhaps this was part of his punishment.

They returned home. He went into his room and changed into the reaping outfit which he had placed neatly on his bed in the early morning. The slate grey suit paid homage to his district's career program although it was the last thing he wanted to think about with all that has happened. It made his dark complexion stand out even more than it already did in a predominantly pale looking society. Finally, he gave the final touches on his hair – making sure each of his tiny curls were equally as pleasing to the eye. With a long, forlornly sigh, he met his parents at the front door of their luxurious house, mentally preparing himself for what was to come next.

They walked to the reaping. Nothing interesting happened on the way. He mentally skipped over the majority of the reaping anyway, nothing he hadn't seen before.

Maxiumus appeared delighted after watching the propaganda video that never, ever changed over the span of many lifetimes. However, he was even more delighted to announce the tributes that would be participating in the games – going so far as to delve right into it instead of droning on and on like some of the other escorts apparently enjoyed doing.

First he pulled a slip of paper out of the female tribute bowl.

"Alexis…"

"I volunteer!" A girl shouted with pride. She made her way to the stage accompanied by the people chanting her name, Niobe Chatelaine. She was tall and slender, but also strong. A fearsome tribute indeed, she has been rumoured to be very capable with the bow.

"And for the boys…" He was only half-heartedly reaching into the male tribute bowl, knowing someone was bound to volunteer anyway. Owen had desperately wished this was just another horrible dream and that he would wake up in the warming comfort of his bed sheets. He spotted his father's stern eyes in a crowd looking back at him, he gave him the same intensive nod from earlier – but now it had a completely different meaning. For those who refused to volunteer when chosen are punished with a torture that makes the Hunger Games seem like a sweet alternative.

"I volunteer!" He raised his hand high as the curious eyes of the district looked on. Owen did everything in his power to play the part of a typical bloodthirsty career. Poised and in control, exactly what the Capitol demands of him.

The people smiled and cheered happily, even if completely ignorant of his plight. They were encouraged by the sight of two fine looking tributes standing proudly on the reaping stage in knowing they would be prepared for what was in store. Owen turned his attention over to his district partner who was staring back at him. Conjoining hands as a sign of unity and hope that one of them may return a victor.


	6. District Three: Bianca Lauri

**I hope you enjoy my latest update, this time covering the tributes of District Three. **

**ALSO, to my avid readers, I need your assistance to propel this story forward! I'm getting too lazy to create new and exciting district escorts to lead our very own tributes off their deaths. So I am proposing a little contest... **

**I call it SYODE (Submit your own district escort). Make it fun, make it imaginative, go above and beyond to give me some fun personalities to work with at the reaping and all. The best SYODE submission, as judged by me, will receive a little boost from the sponsors when the games begin. All but districts 1, 2, and 3 are available if you decide to go ahead and submit. Please pick only one district. **

The sound of rain tapping aggressively against the window was more than enough to draw Bianca from her restless slumber. With a groan she sat up at the edge of her bed, rubbing away furiously at her dreary brown eyes. A long sigh escaped her as she approached the window to look outside upon the district. The factories of Three stood tall and ominously. Continuing to produce the latest gadgetry for the Capitol even on the reaping day, their greed was held by no bounds.

There were sizable puddles scattered along the side of the road. Judging by the duration in which it had been raining, she figured they would be around ankle deep at this point and could increase in depth as the day progresses.

How convenient, she thought, that it would rain on the reaping day. Even Mother Nature was intent on displaying her wrath. To most it would come as very disheartening news fallen upon the ears of downtrodden people. However Bianca had instead curled her lips into a smile knowing this was exactly what she needed.

She made her way out into the hallway of her home. It was still dark and quiet yet as she tip-toed over to the front door. There was a metal bucket sitting on the floor nearby a bureaucratic arrangement of worn shoes. Cracking open the front entrance, she reached with her arm to place the bucket outside so that it may capture some of the rainwater pouring down. The droplets smacked against the metal bottom of the bucket with a loud pinging noise suffice to wake up the rest of the family.

She sat there for a while and watched the rain just relentlessly continue its course. The noise was like a constant flow of music to her ears as she rested against the thinly layered walls of her home. She felt the anxiety and stress release from her body through deep, calming breaths. The tense feeling which had been gathering within her for quite some time had also seemed to dissipate, if only momentarily. Her eyes began to flutter, and then they had shut.

A few moments later, she returned to consciousness. Having realized she had dozed off, she looked over at the bucket of water that was now overflowing at the brim. Silently cursing herself for being so careless, she brought the bucket back inside and proceeded to wash herself thoroughly with a raggy old sponge her family had been using since she was a kid. She was surprised that the house was still so quiet although she knew better than to drag her family away from their sleep on a day like this. Besides, it gave her all of the privacy she needed to wash up…or so she thought.

"Bianca, is that you?" The voice of the raven haired Pierre called from the other end of the screen layered door. She quickly covered herself with a hanging towel, barring the image that was surely ingrained into his head.

"Pierre! What are you doing here so early in the morning? The reaping doesn't begin until noon" Bianca shivered in nothing but a long white towel and the cover of her cascading brunette hair.

Meanwhile, he was dressed to impress. It was a fine suit handed down from his father many years ago if she remembered correctly. If not for the makeshift umbrella looming over his head, the suit would have surely been ruined by such an adventure.

"I wanted to be with you for as long as I could in case one of us is picked today…in the event that I don't return" His words were spoken softly and sweetly in such an inviting manner, it made her smile.

"I'll be right back, I'm just going to put on my reaping dress" She motioned for him to enter her home and wait by the door as she swiftly scampered down the long hallway inter her room. Bianca pretended not to notice the sly wink her sister gave her as they passed in the hallway.

It was nothing more than a modest green dress hanging by its lonesome in her closet for the better half of a year. Actually she had grown to hate it for the meaning within which it had possessed. The feeling of inadequacy before the patronizing eyes of the Capitol as they dine by their deathbeds and feast on their fear became one of such inconsolable pain.

"Pierre!" Her mother, Carmin, was shocked to see the young boy standing there before them so early on the morning of the reaping. "I must say this is highly unexpected of you…"

"It is nothing really. Besides, my family is far too busy with political matters down at the Justice building"

"I see…" Her father walked into the room, ducking his head beneath the door on his way in. "In that case, would you care to stay for breakfast? I'm just about to start cooking" His skeleton-like fingers prodded away on the electric burner – a device which he had invented himself. He placed a large cooking pot on top of the metal burner and fiddled with the buttons until a blue flame emitted from the center of the burner.

"That would be lovely Mr. Lauri…"

"Hi Mr. and Mrs. Lauri!" Bianca recognized that jubilant voice immediately. "Is Bianca present?" It seems Lucy had enough of watching them from her bedside window and decided to venture over. Gian Lauri briefly glanced over at his daughter sitting patiently at the dining room table with Pierre as if to mentally scold her.

"For the moment I suppose…"

That was all she needed to hear as Lucy marched right into their home. Mud prints in the shape of her dainty little feet made a trail from the door to the dining room. She appeared oblivious to the glaring which her father was directing towards the back of her head.

"Lucy!" Bianca nagged at her like a mother would. "You're dragging mud all over the house!"

"Opps! Sorry…"

Carmin rushed to clean up the mess and Gian served breakfast right on time. The whole family, plus Pierre, joined for the serving. All of the seats at the table were taken meaning Lucy had to stand awkwardly in their presence as they helped themselves to a bowl of soup. Bianca gulped down an entire bowl and helped herself to seconds.

"What kind of soup is that?" Lucy decided to speak up.

"Cabbage." Bianca replied between the spoonfuls of piping hot goodness. She ate like it was the last meal she was going to ever eat at home, in a way this could be true – although she wanted to deny that possibility entirely.

"What are you doing after the reaping?"

"I don't know." Bianca's face grew redder and redder with frustration and annoyance. Her hand clenched her spoon mightily as she struggled internally to contain herself.

"Are you and Pierre ever going to date?"

"You need to leave, NOW!" Bianca stood in fury, pointing to the direction in which Lucy may see herself out as quickly as possible.

There was a moment of tense silence. Lucy held her head down shamefully and exited their home. Bianca was sure she had seen the bead of a single tear plummet from her eye. It was her fault though for being so annoying, she shrugged and finished eating her meal. The rest of the family continued their routine as if it never happened.

"It is time" Her mother sighed heavily. She turned her gaze towards Bianca's sister expectantly. Nobody was excited for the orders that were to come next. "Alba…"

"Yes mother?"

"Take your sister to the reaping at once"

Solemnly, she nodded. They rose from the table with the undeniable expressions of sorrow and proceeded to trudge out the front door. Pierre joined them as well; he held his umbrella over their heads so that they would not be soaked by the rain. The district's Justice building was only a few blocks away from their home.

The factories were silent. Many of the workers dragged their heels as they left from their forced occupations. Many of the workers were still sporting their drab green uniforms, which of course were being soaked from the rain. Peacekeepers armed with batons lined the entire street from end to end as they keenly supervised the people making their way to the reaping.

Their walk felt like an eternity with the tension as thick as a drum of human blood. Alba spoke of nothing, instead holding a cold-hearted glare reserved for the peacekeepers. Pierre was also being quiet today, like he was simply processing the events as they were to occur.

"You know…" Bianca was the first to break the silence. "We've been friends our entire lives, yet I know you about as much as the strangers in white that occupy our streets"

"In times such as these, I cannot afford to leave myself vulnerable" Pierre replied.

"I hardly believe there ever will be a better time than the present…"

They arrived on schedule. Lilith, the district escort, was dressed in a ridiculous looking full-body spandex suit that sparkled from the lights reflection off the unnecessary array of gems covering her slender figure. Alba, Bianca, and Pierre exchanged their final goodbyes – the sisters embraced passionately. Peacekeepers had to pry the two apart.

"Good morning everyone! Isn't this is such an exciting time of the year?! One lucky boy and one lucky girl will have the opportunity of a lifetime…" Lilith spoke with an enthusiasm clearly unmatched by the helping of silence which the citizens of three showed her. She seemed to be a little offended that everybody wasn't as excited as she was to watch innocent people be sent to their brutal end. Bianca wondered if she even recognized them as people, perhaps they were just pieces of a game that could be moved as the player would please. "No need to hold back your excitement now…go ahead, cheer. It's quite exciting"

It quickly became evident that she wasn't going to get a response. For years she has tried to rally the district behind the games, no doubt it was only to seize the glory of becoming an escort in one of the career districts. She smiled in contempt of her subjects and approached the girls reaping bowl with a few confident steps.

Her hand plunged into the girl's reaping bowl. Bianca was thankful to have not taken out any tesserae unlike the majority of her peers. She would only have four entries this year. By her mathematical calculations, the odds of being reaped for her were still quite low.

"The female tribute for the 69th Hunger Games will be…Bianca Lauri"

Wait…what? Did they call the name she thought they had? This surely had to be a dream, or a nightmare to be correct. Her eyes widened in horror as the perturbing stares from the other girls in her area fell upon her within an instant.

It's all over, she thought. Her body began to tremble, peacekeepers charged into the crowd to pull her away. She had no discernible talents, no hidden advantages, not even the slightest hint of charisma. The peacekeepers dragged her onto the stage. Her eyes searched desperately for her friends and family, the only glimmer of hope she had left in her life. It would all soon be ripped from the seams of her heart.

**Btw, here's an updated tribute list for those of you who don't keep up. **

**District One**

Female: DecidedlyDestiel

Male: DalekOswin

**District Two**

Female: spacechupi

Male: love-peace-hugs

**District Three**

Female: little pink butterflies

Male: HG2013

**District Four**

Female: TheGreenMockingjay

Male: LadyRythelle

**District Five**

Female: FoxySneak

Male:

**District Six**

Female: ASimpleMind94

Male:

**District Seven**

Female: DauntlessInDistrict9

Male:

**District Eight**

Female: HarryPotter-Divergent

Male:

**District Nine**

Female: angelofmusic4ever

Male:

**District Ten**

Female: Taylor1103

Male:

**District Eleven**

Female: ButterLover2345

Male:

**District Twelve**

Female: clary14

Male:


	7. District Three: Bolt Corliss

With the turn of a small key, Bolt Corliss opened the locker door. His brown, saucer-like eyes stared longingly at the green lab coat hanging inside. Those pale and nimble set of fingers grabbed at the fabric of the dull garb as his mind began to picture the life of the other districts – how equally terrible they must be. He slipped through the sleeves arm by arm and then finished with the buttons running up the middle.

He approached a pair of peacekeepers monitoring the doorway. Their white uniforms illuminated despite what little light penetrated the room on such an abysmal morning. Menacing downward glares sent shivers from the cervical to the lumbar region of his spinal column. A barricading arm blocked his path before he could walk in the room.

"Identification pass" Demanded the peacekeepers. Their physical statures were of a stark contrast to his. None of the district's citizens would ever stand a chance in a frontal confrontation against any of District Two's loyally trained guards. He was admitted into the office shortly after brandishing his identification chained to his wristband like a subtle pair of handcuffs.

The main area of the office consisted of six long tables supporting exactly twelve computers per table and the very same number of people working constantly on each one. Low frequency humming and the thundering sounds of a million keys being pressed at once became something of a norm around these parts. Several more peacekeepers line the perimeter of the room monitoring the workers and simultaneously sending silent death threats through their almost robotic expressions.

Even amidst the noise however, Bolt's well trained ears picked up on a hint of whispering coming from one of the tables on the far end of the room. Lately, murmurs of a rebellion have spurred the security into the district at an all-time high and leaving those who struggled at a crossroads. Obeying their dictator out of the fear of losing one's precious family but knowing their devotion may even lead to the very demise which they had set out to avoid in the first place. A conundrum, he would state it as. Is there ever truly a right answer to his many problems?

From his peripheral vision, he noticed a peacekeeper stomping his way over to the whispering co-workers. He shook his head in disappointment at their evident folly; everyone else in the office knew what was going to happen next.

A woman was roughly dragged out of the room by the bulk of her hair. She screamed at the top of her lungs for help at every last waking moment. People only quickly glanced her way, but none dared to come to her dire aid…afraid they will be next. A thunderous bang occurred in the adjacent hallway, it was the last anyone would probably hear from her. She was still quite young, around his age if he were to guess, she stood no chance.

Bolt crossed a narrow hallway into the experimentation centre. It was a large, circular shaped room with two main levels. The upper deck, or known in the business as the monitoring level, was often occupied by peacekeepers and high ranking staff members in charge of supervising the daily operations. Meanwhile the lower deck was reserved for the everyday technicians such as himself.

"Hey Bolt, come check this out!" The voice of Blaine McIntyre beckoned him over. With a cheeky grin, he brandished a small, square shaped electronic device from his back pocket.

"What is it?"

"This is our newest project, The Tribute Finder. It's essentially an advanced version of the portable radar designed specifically to track a tribute's every movement from the moment the games begin"

"I see" He nodded intently. "How does it work?"

"Simple, it syncs up with the tracking devices that allow the gamemakers to keep tabs on the tributes, and then it displays their location relative to their position in the arena…"

"_And so the Capitol remains scheming of new ways to spice up this year's games, surely another treat for the wealthy residents of the Capitol no less" _Bolt pondered to himself. As time continued to tick before this fateful day, the day of the reaping, he thought of such a concept often.

"You're forgetting the best part!" Card interjected, ripping the device right from Blaine's small hands, much to his dismay. "Not only does it show you the location of the tributes at any given time, it can also connect with the many cameras that will be placed in the arena – meaning you could see what everyone is doing at the same time"

"There are still quite a few adjustments that need to be made however…" Log, the senior technician in District Three, admitted as he referenced to the recurring white screen at the center of the device. "In fact, I will need your assistance in making these key adjustments before the first shipment departs"

The two of them inspected the first shipment of devices thoroughly for the better of four arduous hours. Bolt was able to learn of the many capabilities of the built in tracking system, noting its potential for navigating purposes beyond the games. Peacekeepers normally had them work to the bone from sunrise to sunset, but today was a much unwelcomed exception.

Under close supervision and forceful guidance, the workers of three's factories filed out of their work. Their glum expressions were clear as day though clouds covered the sky and rain pelted their faces. The streets were layered with depression.

"How many times is your name in the reaping this year?" He found Log had continued trudging to his near right, a welcome sight at this point.

"36…" He gulped loudly. Log nodded grimly, knowing precisely what that would mean.

"Like many of us I suppose, you have a family to take care of"

Bolt silently affirmed his observation.

He kept his gaze low, stuffing his white knuckled fists deeply into the side pockets of the lab coat. His heart beat tremendously in anticipation. They were surely going to call his name on that stage.

An image of a dead body propped up against a tree flashed before his eyes. Lying around the corpse was a bed of handpicked flowers whose white pedals were stained red from the massacre they endured. Then the vision abruptly stopped, he had inadvertently run into the back of another worker. There was a jam of people standing still in front of them with a wave of people stopping behind them in confusion.

There was a commotion occurring on the road a few feet ahead. People were screaming and shouting, peacekeepers swarmed the area. Bolt was naturally too short to see any of it no matter how hard he tried.

"What's going on?" He then turned to his friend who was closely watching the events unfold from the tips of his toes.

"The Rebellion has begun!" A voice shouted

"We will rise once again!" Another soon followed.

"Fight the power of corruption!"

"May our freedoms return!"

The voices of the brave but few spoke from the minds of the feeble and many. Though he knew not who these people were, he respected them dearly for their efforts. Reciting his final words as gunshots echoed through the district. One…two…three…four good people died on the streets. The remainder marched onward, including himself. Everyone gathered nearby the registration desks where several ladies sat beside one another with expressions cold as ice.

"Bolt!" A pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders as he suddenly felt the weight of another being pressing roughly down on him. His legs buckled under the force, he and whoever was on top of him fell to the ground. That was when he saw the elated face of his younger brother Chord. They embraced each other in a brotherly hug on the hard gravel pathway around the justice building.

"Chord…Where are mother and father?"

"We're right here" His father responded. Mother was reasonably inconsolable at this point, sobbing uncontrollably into his chest. He had a scrawny arm wrapped around her boned little shoulders. "And I got you a gift…" With his other hand, he reaching into his pocket and pulled out a chained pocket watch.

It had a gold exterior with an intricate design on the cover. The inside contained a small ticking clock protected by a thin layer of glass. An old family picture from several years ago was displayed neatly on the other end. Bolt guessed himself to be around eight years old when this picture was taken. Everyone was smiling happily. His brother was hanging playfully on his shoulders, much like he continued to do so as he reminisced on the past.

"Thank you…all of you. I shall cherish this as the bond I share with you guys"

"You've done so much for us big bro; we wanted you to know we're always with you!" Even despite the circumstances, he remained smiling.

They joined hands and stood in unity as they braved the approaching peacekeepers who were about to pry them apart. Bolt felt a burning sensation grow within him as he resisted their advance with all his might. He cursed them internally as they forced his right hand upon the registration desk; he seethed in hatred as they pricked them with the dreaded needle.

He was dragged against his will by his arms while he left a trail of the tips of his work shoes during his pass. Shoved into a group of similarly aged peers near the back. Lilith, the district escort, stood in confidence on the stage. Her glaring pierced the broken hearts of his fellow slaves.

"Good morning everyone! Isn't this is such an exciting time of the year?! One lucky boy and one lucky girl will have the opportunity of a lifetime…" Empowered by the spoils of her position, she called out to them in her booming tone through the microphone. Her eyes did little to conceal her evident excitement for the games. "The female tribute for the 69th Hunger Games will be…Bianca Lauri"

It was not a name he had heard of before. Though as soon as her name was called, the raven-haired boy standing next to him lowered his head in sorrow. If not for the rain already soaking his suit, surely the tears descending from his olive skin would have been sufficed to do so. Was he Bianca's brother? Or perhaps her lover?

"And now for the males…" The boy sighed in disappointment as if he had just lost something valuable to him. Lilith's hand happily searched around the reaping bowl for just the right slip of paper. Who would be the one to answer the call, to represent the district in their pageantry of torture?

"…Bolt Corliss!"

The answer would be none other than himself. What once was passion for unity became fear of death; hatred became fear of death… it was all he could think about. The image of the dead body lying against the tree reappeared in his mind, but now he could see his own pale complexion staring blankly at himself.

No. He couldn't allow himself to believe in that right now. The actions in which he understood as his necessity had to be reflected on both the inside and the outside. He made his way to the stage, calmly cleansing the mind of all negativity for just that very small moment in which he was vaguely aware of being the center of attention. Lilith welcomed him with open arms.

He shook hands with his district partner and looked out toward the crowd. Though he could not see his family eagerly awaiting his return, he felt them though the gift of their token. As long as they were there, hope always lingered in the air. He steeled himself for the battle which was just about to begin.


	8. District Four: Marine Trenton

Marine walked hand in hand with her sisters down the sunlit shoreline, musing on the little things that in turn create a setting of paradise. In the way which the ocean tide's constant moving eases the ears and appeals to the mind. To be compounded by the feeling of warm sand covering the crevices between her toes. Most of all, it is the unity binding the family together which adds that ever so important element into the picture – what gives light its shine and the ocean its depth. The girls were happy they could see this every single day of their lives.

Seventeen years in their home overlooking the sandy beaches of four became one filled with countless memories, ones where frame and photo couldn't begin to detail. They say pictures are worth a thousand words, but it is the act of living such experiences which inspires such awe and wonder incapable of describing in even a single word. Memories upon memories lay dormant deep within the mind, waiting the day they may finally reach the height of their potential.

Marine, Netty, Pearl, and Finnya respectively returned from their morning walk. On this day, they wore fine dresses, only of the finest make would do under such scrutinizing eyes. They all dressed in blue in honor of their beloved sea. Together they were happy and Marine was sure to keep it that way.

"Have you girls seen Poseidon and Wave by any chance?" Their father, David, called over from his comfortable recline as he basked in the suns generous tanning rays. His trusty harpoon rested loyally by his side.

"I can't say we have" Marine briefly glances out into the water to see if they were swimming in the ocean. Alas, the ocean remained peaceful yet. She figured they were sure to be nearing.

"Perhaps they are still inside?" Netty suggested.

"Maybe our brothers got into trouble with those peacekeepers again…" Pearl offered with a worried sigh.

"Look! Over there!" young Finnya pointed with delight. Wave charged with reckless abandon towards the oncoming waves, calling out at the top of his lungs like he was the king of his own domain. He was splashing about in the water where he was always filled with joy. Not to be lagging behind was, of course, Poseidon confidently in tow. He was dressed handsomely from the waist below. His thoroughly glistened bronzed skin drew the attention of every girl far and wide.

"Poseidon!" Marine cheered and the girls ran over to join them nearby the water.

"I see you girls are looking lovely today" Poseidon flashed a courteous smile to his sisters that made them all quite giggly. Such charm, Marine thought, the girl whom her brother ever decided to marry will be so very lucky.

"I would say the same to you but…where's your shirt?"

"I wanted to soak up every last bit of this sun as I could" He gestured to the beaming sun with open arms as a man ascending to the supposed heavens in the sky.

Some time had passed in which Marine and her brother Poseidon watched over their younger, more playful siblings' splash about in the seaweed filled waters without a care in the world. It had been the same for them many years ago when they too were young and free. The sun would come and go but they remained until dark, telling stories over the campfire late into the night.

Somewhere wrapped in her reminiscence, she thought of her friend Milly. She was a poor girl, but not by wealth rather by circumstances. Even on a day such as this it pained her to think Milly would be trapped inside her home. She was going to see her friend, Marine determined, then bring her to the beach so that she too could enjoy the weather.

Marine stood up to leave. She bid a momentary farewell to her brothers and sisters before turning to walk off into the distance.

"And where are you going?" Poseidon naturally grew curious of her seemingly mysterious actions. "Stay for a while and relax, the reaping isn't for another hour or so"

"I going to bring Milly, I think she will enjoy this"

The boy nodded his head thoughtfully and returned his gaze out to the waters of the fisherman's coast. Milly lived near the center of the district where it was lively and vibrant to the latest hours of the evening. Her bedroom window overlooked the fish market where men and women played the part of traders as coin and other monetary values were exchanged between one another.

She tapped lightly on the wooden planked door of the home. Milly's mother answered the door with a smile. In her hands she held a tray of steaming hot, bite-sized portions of her famous creamed salmon on toast. Marine closed her eyes and allowed the succulent smell of cooked salmon waft through her nose.

"It's good to see you again" Milly's mother laughed a little to herself. "Take as many as you like!"

The girl helped herself to one, two…actually about a dozen pieces of her most favourite food. District Four's bread always did have a slight seaweed tinge to it as it was always made right on the coast. Though in fusion with the salmon, Marine thought it was the best thing in the world!

She spoke with a mouth full of food and although not understanding exactly what she said, the lady figured she was simply expressing her gratitude as she invited her into the house. Marine entered the living room where Milly lounged peacefully on the couch. There was a rope contorted awkwardly stringed about on the glass coffee table.

"M-Marine, what are you doing here?" Her eyes widened in surprise.

"The day is too lovely to spend inside like this, so we're going to the beach"

"How fun!" The girl exclaimed in joy. Her eyes returned to the unfinished mess before her. "But before we go… Hmm, how do I put this… could you, possibly, teach me how to fish?"

"Of course!?" Marine smiled proudly for her friend very rarely required her assistance. The dependence in which the girl relied upon a sturdy pair of crutches fostered a desire for independence within her heart. If the district possessed even one tenth of her willpower, then surely things would be very much different.

She grasped at the tangled assortment on the table; her magic hands immediately went to work. First she began reversing the adversity of her friend's structural errors, before long she held up a sizeable fishing net for display. Milly stared on, impressed with the work – so impromptu it appeared to be second nature.

"How did you do that?"

"I guess you could say it's my job" She laughed. "Now let's go catch some fish"

Her friend nodded in response and so they journeyed back to the beach. Marine strolled casually alongside her disabled friend who seemed to be calling upon all of her strength just to move, though she knew better than to try and assist her. When they arrived at the beach they saw everyone was still enjoying themselves. It was almost as if nothing had changed since she left.

"So I see you two made it back safely" Cora, Marine's mother, greeted the two as they approached the water.

"Yep, and we also made this" Marine jokingly tossed the handmade fishing net over Cora's head where it slid down her slender body. It covered the majority of her head and torso; the girls couldn't help but smile and laugh at this simple gesture.

"We're going to catch some fish with it too" Milly added.

The clock struck noon, the signal alarms echoed through the streets warning the citizens to drop what they are doing and go to the reaping. It was time, Marine thought, and the moment of truth as some would say. Everyone but Finnya and Wave had to leave for they were still too young for what would become the inevitable soon enough.

The main square in front of the Justice Building was crowded. Marine stood in line with the other faces of the district. She could differentiate the wealthy from the poor almost instantly by the material of their outfits.

Like each year, the process was essentially the same. First came the slight prickling from the needle as they drew blood from one's body. Then the peacekeepers divided the citizens by age much as they divided the districts by way of industry. Afterwards came the propaganda film, which was normally displayed for the district by the escort themselves…but this time it was not so.

The crowd began to whisper amongst each other in peaked curiosity. She thought of it highly unusual for the absence of the flamboyant presence the escorts deliver on the stage with such pride. Instead it was the handsome Finnick Odair, the shining star of Marine's eye, who took to the stage. He was still quite young, only a year older in fact. A champion breed, winning the games at fourteen – he was no less than a celebrity around these parts. Rumor has it that he has been visiting the Capitol frequently for business purposes though of course Marine knew nothing more of this.

"_Unfortunately_, due to some minor technical difficulties, there will be no opening video" The former victor took care to place the right emphasis on his first words of the event. Everything seemed a bit off on this particular reaping, Marine began to wonder if the sudden disappearance from the escort had anything to do with it. "So without further ado, we shall get right to business"

Her eyes watched closely as his silky smooth skin dove into the sea of reaping ballots, splashing his hand around the innards of the bowl. Several moments passed, the feeling of suspense clung harshly around her throat. A lone ballot emerged from the depths; Finnick Odair held it firmly in his hand like a prized catch.

"The female tribute representing District Four in the 69th Hunger Games will be…"

There was a short pause. He gazed out into the crowd with those enchanting sea-green eyes that lured in her heart many years ago as a young boy standing atop the very same stage. Although times were different then, and much has changed from those moments to the next. There is a high possibility that he is not the same person he was just four years ago. She figured he has experienced horror far beyond her capability to understand.

"…Milly Stratton"

Marine's eyes widened in horror, the place fell dead silent. The agonizing screams in the background came from none other than Milly's mother of course. There were people trying to calm her down, but to no avail. Peacekeepers wasted no time in "escorting" her from her hiding within her peer group.

In but the tiniest of glances, Marine was shocked that her friend remained so determined – even as death stared her in the face with odds so insurmountable. She was prepared to die. Marine turned back to Milly's mother, by now she was sobbing on the ground in knowing she would be seeing her daughter for the last time. The sudden realization had struck the fine chord of her heartstrings as she felt what could only be half of the pain Milly was now battling inside.

Even despite her determination and heart, it was clear that Milly stood no chance of winning. Their friendship flashed right before her eyes. From the quaint beginnings to the heartfelt ends, regardless of the situation they remained side by side. It was then that she decided to fulfil one last favor for her childhood friend.

"I volunteer!" Marine shouted. Being a career district, this occurrence did not surprise the crowd. Of course, she wasn't exactly a career, though this fact would not be enough to stop her. She ran over and embraced Milly for what could be the very last time.

"You idiot! You should have let me go!" Milly seethed in anger, not at the girl who was willing to protect her despite the conditions at hand, but at those who perpetuate the misery which all of Panem but the Capitol have been forced to endure.

"You know I couldn't let you do as you pleased" Tears fell from her eyes, but she couldn't care less who saw it.

"You better survive…"

They were finally separated, forcefully that is. The peacekeepers now led Marine onto the stage. The crowd clapped respectfully for her kind gesture. She first saw Finnick's fond smile as she appeared on stage.

"And what is your name?"

"…Marine Trenton"


End file.
